


for you will still be here tomorrow, but your dreams may not

by ashintuku



Series: fox on the run [14]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 01:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11220282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashintuku/pseuds/ashintuku
Summary: “So you’re Yondu’s boy, are ya?”





	for you will still be here tomorrow, but your dreams may not

He stood alone on the bridge, the others having left some time ago to find rooms to call their own and pool together their funds to see if they could afford to buy some quick necessities. 

(Drax had lost almost everything on the red planet that had been his colossal dick of a father – everything but his knives, which he’d only grabbed beforehand because he knew he was going to fight, and if Drax was anything other than straightforward and blunt, it was prepared for a fight.)

But Peter hadn’t moved, the warmth of Gamora’s side pressed against his ribs – her slim, strong arm wrapped around his waist like an anchor slowly fading away just like the colours outside of the observation windows. 

(Peter remembered growing up on the _Eclector_ , runny-nosed and red-eyed and fuming; remembered learning how to steal just so he could get his backpack back. He remembered the flash of something like pride in Yondu’s eyes when he finally managed to actually get it without anyone on board the wiser – right before he got cuffed on the back of the head and told if he wanted something on this ship, he had to ask the _captain_.

Peter had a lot of memories like that – things he had once clung onto just to remember how much he _hated_ Yondu, and now every time he thought about them he noticed things he never had before. How Yondu was always there after he had a fight with one of the other crew members; how Yondu had always known where to find him when he was hiding; how only he and Kraglin had been allowed access to the captain’s quarters, able to go in and out as they pleased, but no one else. It made him wonder how long Yondu had seen him as a son – made him wonder why he’d never seen it before.

It made him hurt and it made him angry that it made him hurt – but mostly, it just made him feel. And he wasn’t sure how he felt about that at all.) 

He was shaken out of his thoughts when a light started to blink on the captain’s chair; alerting him to someone hailing them. With a quick glance out the windows to see who it could be (he just saw a few straggling Ravager vessels, and he had a moment where he remembered Yondu sitting him down and teaching him about the other Ravagers, and how he had to avoid them at any cost if he knew what was good for him. He should’ve known something was up, then, but he’d just been a dumb kid – what the hell did he know, anyway?), he walked over and pressed the button after only hesitating a second. 

It wasn’t like this shit day could get any shittier. 

The screen flickered in front of him, the vestiges of Yondu’s funeral disappearing behind the face of an unknown humanoid that vaguely looked like an older, lopsided Sylvester Stallone. 

“Uh... hello?” 

“Who are you?” 

_Amazing,_ Peter thought, sitting down slowly in the captain’s chair; he angled himself so that he leaned more on his left, because he might be the captain now but he was about as professional as Groot was tall. _He even sounds like Stallone, in a ‘he is either super drunk’ or ‘totally had a stroke’ kind of way._

“My name’s Peter Quill, you might know me as—”

“So you’re Yondu’s boy, are ya?” 

Peter’s mouth shut tight with a click of his teeth, green eyes widening before they narrowed on the Stallone lookalike suspiciously. 

“Who are you? How do you—...how _did_ you know Yondu?”

The man on the screen laughed, and Peter clenched his hand into a fist; his patience really starting to wear thin as he waited for an answer. 

(He thought about a megalomaniac who called himself his father; thought about the gaslighting and the completely obvious methods of abuse now that he wasn’t literally starry-eyed and dreaming about destroying the galaxy for the Greater Good. Thought about the phrase ‘we’re going to be the only two people in the universe soon, Peter, so you had better stop _pissing me off_ ’ – and he wondered and he worried if he had inherited more than his father’s falsified face. If he had maybe inherited his temper, his anger – his goddamn _ego_.) 

“Don’t know who I am, boy?” Peter clenched his teeth, and the humanoid huffed out another laugh. “My name’s Stakar Ogord. I’m the one who freed Yondu back when he was a young brat like you – gave him a ship. Told him he could go fuck off wherever he wanted in the galaxy – or he could become a Ravager.” 

Peter’s eyebrows raised, his fist slowly unclenching, and Stakar Ogord smirked at him before that expression faded away. The two-time galaxy saver felt a little like he was being inspected and found severely wanting. 

“I’m the one who looked at a hardened Kree battle slave after raiding one of their ships, and decided to give ‘em the chance to live by their own rules. He just had to follow the Code. That’s all. Just a couple of rules. No double-crossin’ other Ravagers, don’t get involved in the politics of the thing – and don’t deal in kids.” Stakar leaned back, now, mirroring Peter’s pose (mirroring Yondu’s pose, and for one surreal second Peter wondered if Stakar was kinda like his grandfather or _what_ ), and narrowed his eyes on Peter. “I’m sure you see where this is going.” 

“Can’t say that I do,” Peter said after taking a moment to swallow. He wished, for a moment, that someone were on the bridge with him. Maybe Gamora, who could look threatening and dangerous just by lowering her eyelids; or maybe Groot, because he was adorable and not even Ravagers were immune to his toddler charm. Hell, he’d even take Kraglin, if only because one of them should be on some kind of even footing, and the man _was_ a Ravager. 

Stakar narrowed his eyes, his jaw tensed as he gritted his teeth. Peter just had that effect on people. 

“It’s ‘cause of _you_ that we lost him. When he got _you_ , he told me what was happenin’. I told him to take you back to your planet, and we could pretend that none of it had ever happened. I couldn’t prove the other kids, just transactions. I didn’t like it, but I could ignore it. I could live with the pit in my stomach. What was done was done. But he told me he was gonna _keep_ you.” The Ravager breathed in deeply through his nose, and Peter tensed, waiting. “I told him to take you back and he said _no_ , it weren’t safe. Not safe for you, not safe for nobody. Best he kept you. Keep you on the move, like what I did for him and those Kree battlemasters of his. Said it was the best option.” 

“...But Ravagers don’t deal in kids,” Peter said, quietly, and Stakar gave him another grim smile; a smirk, really, something that said ‘you look dumb but you’ve got a few brain cells left to rub together and beggar money’. It was another he was used to on a blue face and crooked teeth, and Peter was finding that he really, really didn’t like seeing the similarities between Yondu and this jackass. 

“I couldn’t ignore _that_ , boy, no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t. I told him dump ya, or it was exile. ...I’m sure I don’t need t’say anything else.” 

Peter shook his head, slouching a little further in his seat and staring at Stakar but not really seeing him. He was learning so much about Yondu in less than 24 hours and it was starting to hurt his head, but he thought it was probably important.

“So you’re sayin’ it’s my fault he was exiled from the Ravagers and had to live isolated with his crew, taking whatever dregs society spat out for his crewmates, and unable to go to Ravager space or any planet where Ravagers often frequented. That it’s my fault he decided maybe he didn’t want to ferry kids off like space is the goddamn river Styx and that floating carcass of a planet behind me was the gateway to Hell.” He gestured vaguely in the direction that Ego had situated himself, where the floating red debris of his father currently tiltawhorl’d themselves into dizzying circles; never to stop or rest or be whole ever again, because the light was dead and Peter felt that chasm deep in the pit of his stomach, next to the gaping wound where his mother forever reached out her hand and Yondu forever smiled at him as they broke atmo. 

“You’re sayin’ it’s my fault that the only good thing he could think of before he _killed himself for me_ was _me_.” Peter paused, looking at Stakar. “Gotta know – you blame me for his death, too?” 

Stakar didn’t say anything, and Peter made a face that Rocket had once told him made him look like one of Earth’s ‘sea pancakes’ (they were manta rays, Rocket, _manta rays_ , and they were _awesome_ ), before he slowly stood up and stepped towards the screen. It made him feel a little bit like Captain Kirk every time he was confronting an enemy in a different ship. The thought made him straighten his back a little bit. 

“Right, well, okay. So, first of all, _fuck you_ ,” Peter said, pointing at Stakar. Stakar sat up, eyebrows raised, and Peter smiled a wolfish smile; one he inherited from his daddy. “Yondu often fucked up in his life, I know this probably better than you ever will. Usually it was when he was tryin’ to father me but he couldn’t, ‘cause said _lowlifes_ he was forced to surround himself with made him keep a rough outside in order to protect whatever squishy, sentimental insides he had _left_. Second of all, he would’a never had to associate with the likes of goddamn _Taserface_ if you hadn’t exiled him in the first place.” 

“Weren’t you listenin’, boy? We only exiled him ‘cause—”

“Don’t call me boy,” Peter interrupted, frowning at him. “And _yeah_ , I heard you. Loud and clear, Ogord. Yondu fucked up. He fucked up when he took that first job, took that first kid, and left them on that _dick_ of a planet. But did you ever maybe think about _why_ he went ahead with it, even knowing the Code as he so obviously did?” 

“Your daddy paid him well.” 

“Oh, that asshole was _not_ my daddy,” Peter said hotly, feeling something sick settle at the base of his throat at even the _thought_ of Ego as anything other than his sperm donor. Even that was a little upsetting. His mom had _way_ better taste than that. Or maybe she just had excellent taste in music and food and movies, but _shit_ taste in men? Whatever. “But yeah, sure, I’m sure that was a huge factor. Yondu was a greedy sonuvabitch. His greed got my ass in trouble more often than I wanna think about. But why go to the orphaned Kree battle slave who asked himself every goddamn day what he did so _wrong_ that his parents sold their own _kid_ into slavery in the first place? Hm? C’mon, you know the answer, don’t make me say it.” 

“Boy—”

“ _Don’t call me boy._ ” Peter took another step forward, and he thought back to times that Yondu would be on a call with a client, and the client was trying to rob them. Yondu always stood during those conversations; stood so he could loom, in whatever capacity he was able to, just before he promised them they would live to regret double-crossing him and signing off. Peter had always wanted to try it, but he didn’t think he had ‘threatening badass’ down quite yet. 

“Maybe it’s ‘cause he was the easiest target. Maybe it was because Ego knew how to manipulate the shit out of people who had a decent head on their shoulders, and make ‘em do what he wanted them to do, because that was what he _did_. And _maybe_ when Yondu turned to _you_ – his mentor, damned-near his _father figure_ , who freed him from slavery and gave him the choice of fucking off wherever he wanted to go in the galaxy and being a Ravager – he was looking for someone to tell him ‘you fucked up, boy, but it ain’t the worst you could’a done. We’ll figure out a way to fix at least this bit of it’. Maybe he was admitting that he was _wrong_ , and he wanted to make up for it. And you go ahead and exile him.” Peter held out his hands, stepping back. “Might as well have sold him into slavery, right, for all the helplessness you gave ‘im.” 

“How _dare_ you—”

“Oh how dare _you_ , a-hole,” Peter snapped, narrowing his eyes. “It might’ve been my fault he was exiled in the first place but it’s your fault he ended up alone. S’why you’re bothering hailing me, right? Right after literally lighting the colours for his send-off. You couldn’t have even waited a couple of days to be a jackass? You had to come at me when this is still the freshest thing on my mind? _Fuck_ you. I don’t have time for your misplaced guilt-inspired blame game. I’ve got more important things to think about than an old man’s twisted panties over a point so moot it’s as dead as the guy it’s about.” 

Silence fell over the bridge, then, Stakar staring at Peter and Peter staring at Stakar. The half-terran, half-dead-god was breathing heavily, his hands shaking at his sides, and he belatedly thought to himself that _maybe_ he shouldn’t be pissing off the top Ravager when the guy was literally less than a handful of clicks away from their position. He wondered if he’d have enough time to raise their shields and get the Quadrant moving before Stakar decided to bomb them out of the stars and give Yondu some company on his way out. 

(He also wondered, a bit stupidly really, if Yondu would yell at him and call him a ‘dumbass’ and smack the back of his head for dying so soon after Yondu’s sacrifice to save his sorry hide; the thought almost made him laugh, but now _really_ wasn’t the time.) 

And then Stakar did something that Peter hadn’t been expecting at all. 

He laughed. 

It was only short, more of a bark than anything else – a bit like Rocket’s laugh when he was being sincere about it. Actually sincere, not the fake-sincere he pulled out whenever he and Peter were fighting about a new kind of dumbass thing. But it was a laugh, and Stakar was grinning at him, and Peter was waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“You really are Yondu’s boy, Peter Quill,” the Ravager finally said, and Peter straightened up at that. Stakar leaned back in his seat again, more relaxed than he had been since he first hailed the Quadrant. “And I don’t like admittin’ it – but you’re right. We should’a been there for him. Should’a helped him.” He looked away, rubbing at his mouth. “We were so focused on the fact that he’d dealt with kids—”

“That you ignored that he was trying to save one?” 

Stakar sighed, but nodded, and Peter finally relaxed himself; hands on his hips and gaze steady. He heard someone behind him, but didn’t bother looking; best the captain not get distracted in the middle of an important call and all. Finally Stakar rolled his neck and looked back at Peter. 

“He’ll be remembered with us, Peter Quill.” 

“...and he’ll be remembered with us,” Peter said softly, the response to the old Ravager saying easy on his tongue. He’d heard Yondu say it enough to crew members when they lost someone that it just became another saying he knew, like look both ways before crossing the street and don’t say anything if you ain’t got nothing nice to say. Stakar nodded one more time, before he hung up, leaving the bridge in silence and the observation windows clear to look at the last remains of the colours and Stakar’s ship turning around to jump. 

Peter finally turned to see Kraglin standing behind the captain’s seat, looking at the observation window. He was still clinging onto the arrow, fingering the pointed tip; tear tracks drying on his cheeks and a contemplative look on his face. 

“Never thought I’d hear ya defend the Cap’n like that, Pete,” he said after a moment, voice cracking a little. Peter ignored it, and Kraglin cleared his throat. “Ya never did act like ya paid much attention to him.” 

“Well of course I didn’t,” Peter said, looking away from the Ravager and crossing his arms over his chest. He suddenly felt tired, a full day of being used as a battery by a god-planet and then killing said god-planet by blowing up its brain finally taking its toll. “I was a moody, rotten teenager who was denying the partial Stockholm Syndrome that I’d developed over the years along with genuine affection for my abductor. It would completely ruin my entire image if I ever stood up for the guy.” 

“What syndrome?” 

“...Never mind, Kraglin, it’s not important.” Peter shook his head, rubbing his face. “Guess it just took me a while to realize that Yondu gave up a lot for me, and I never appreciated it until he was dead.” 

Awkward silence fell, and then Kraglin stepped up and clapped Peter on the shoulder, squeezing just a little too tightly to be comforting. But that was just Kraglin; he’d never fully gotten the whole ‘handle the terran boy delicately’ memo. It reminded Peter of more of his childhood, and he felt like this entire ship was going to do that for the next however-long. 

“I don’t think he wanted ya t’know, Pete. Was jus’ Cap’n’s way, an’ all.” 

Peter breathed out slowly, finally looking away from the observation deck and back to Kraglin. 

“...Yeah, Kraglin. I guess you’re right.” 

Peter and Kraglin watched each other for another long, awkward moment, before Peter finally shook his head and planted his hands on his hips. 

“My room used to be located on the Quadrant – is my stuff still here?” 

“Cap’n threatened anyone who went near it with his Yaka,” Kraglin said with a tiny grin. “Also, your rodent friend told me ‘bout how you lost both’a yer cassette thingies. We got clones of the music, should you want ‘em. Cap’n did it little while after we decided t’keep ya – said somethin’ might happen to yer music player an’ we had best prepare to avoid any dumbass kid’s cryin’.” 

Peter blinked, something bundling up in his throat like affection, before he coughed and looked away from Kraglin again; grinning and ignoring how wet his eyes felt. 

“...That _asshole_.”


End file.
